


Touchstone

by jack_the_giantkiller



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Caretaking, Comfort Sex, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 00:36:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3402011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jack_the_giantkiller/pseuds/jack_the_giantkiller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Fallow Mire is miserable, wet, muddy, and filled with corpses. Luckily, the Inquistor has someone to come home to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touchstone

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on the Dragon Age Kink Meme: anons, i just had the world's shittiest day and would absolutely adore some fluffy cuddling or spooning or so-saccharine-it-hurts-my-teeth sex

Inquisitor Lavellan tried to tell himself that there were reasons to like the Fallow Mire. Valuable plants. Dawn Lotus, Summer stone. Runes. Something. Reasons they kept going back. Right now, he was covered in blood and muck, which he tried not to think about because any water filled with diseased corpses was a special level of awful. It was disgusting. Everything about the mire was miserable and wet— he was half tempted to leave the rifts there. The region couldn’t get much worse.

Varric and Vivienne had been even worse off— he was sure they’d never speak to him again. Varric had spent the entire trip complaining, loudly and often; Vivienne had pointedly cast cleaning charms on her robes whenever Lavellan glanced in her direction. The Iron Bull hadn’t complained as much, but he had enthusiastically approved of a long hot bath.

The four of them trudged through the gates of Skyhold, and were met with raised eyebrows. One of the gate guards tried to casually cover his nose— only to hastily snap to attention when Cullen glared at him. Not that Lavellan blamed the guard. Varric, Vivienne, and the Iron Bull headed off to their own rooms and left Lavellan staring tiredly at the stairs up to the main hall. He could already feel his exhausted muscles protesting the idea of climbing the endless steps to his quarters.

There was a small cough from his right. He turned to see Dorian standing there, sleeve pointedly covering his nose and mouth.

“Might I borrow you, Inquisitor?”

Lavellan raised an eyebrow. “I need a bath. Possibly the longest, hottest bath of my life.”

“Believe me, I am aware. I took the liberty of arranging for a bath to be waiting in your quarters.” Dorian gestured at the tower with his free hand.

Lavellan grinned. “Thank you, Dorian. I would kiss you right now if I weren’t covered in mud.”

“Please don’t. My robes would never recover.”

When they finally reached Lavellan’s rooms at the top of the stair, the Inquisitor was muttering an endless litany of curses aimed at Josephine for arranging rooms such that his were at the top of the tallest tower in Skyhold. Dorian’s lip quirked in amusement as he offered up creative suggestions for additional curses.

A long, deep tub waited, and Lavellan nearly whimpered. Dorian strode over and activated the fire rune etched into the bath. It was only moments before the water was steaming hot and Lavellan had to laugh.

“It turns out I’m an amazingly useful person to have around.” Dorian said, a teasing smile on his face.

Lavellan stripped unselfconsciously. “You’re always useful to me, ma vhenan.”  The water was perfect and he moaned as he slipped into the tub. A small table held soap and cloths and the elf scrubbed to get rid of what felt like weeks of filth of from his skin.

Dorian removed the offending clothes, tossing them in a heap out in the hallway before returning to Lavellan.

“Do you want me to wash your hair?”

“Oh, Maker, yes.” 

They sat silently, with only the sound of splashing as Dorian poured water over Lavellan’s head, washing his hair carefully and making sure it was perfectly clean. His fingers massaged the soap into Lavellan’s scalp, and Lavellan’s eyes drifted shut at the sensation. “Mm, Dorian…”

“Do you want me to stop?” Dorian’s voice was teasing as his fingers kept working.

“No, please don’t...”

“As you command, Inquisitor.” Lavellan splashed water over his shoulder at the amusement in his lover’s tone, and grinned when he heard growled Tevene curses.

Lavellan was finally feeling clean again when there was a knock on his door. He raised an eyebrow at Dorian.

“Go dry off,” Dorian advised and went to answer the door. Lavellan dried himself with the soft, fluffy towel waiting near the bath, then slipped into a loose comfortable shirt and trousers. He only heard muffled voices as Dorian spoke to whoever was at the door. When Dorian returned, he was carrying a tray.

“Did you have dinner delivered?”

“All part of the service.” He deposited the tray on Lavellan’s desk with a flourish. “Hot soup, a decent bottle of wine, and that herbed bread you like, freshly baked.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” Lavellan was already reaching for the still warm bread, mouth watering as he dipped it in the spiced oils the cook had sent with it. 

“Clearly, it must have been something astounding.” Dorian settled at the desk, ladling the soup into two bowls as Lavellan attacked the bread. “Careful, save some for the soup.”

Lavellan hummed noncommittally around the chunk of bread in his mouth, but gestured for Dorian to pass his bowl. He slurped greedily at the soup as Dorian watched in amusement and sipped his more delicately. “Field rations really don’t compare, do they?”

Pausing briefly, Lavellan sent him a pained grimace. “In the Fallow Mire there aren’t even any plants or animals to at least make the rations a little more palatable or provide some variety. I wouldn’t eat anything that came out of that bog if you paid me.” 

Dorian shuddered. “I’ll thank you not to repeat that, I’m not sure I can finish my soup.” Instead of continuing his soup, he uncorked the wine bottle. “Rowan’s Rose. You owe me, by the way. I had to bribe the steward—  this is an excellent vintage.”

“You love me.” Lavellan said with his best charming smile, “And really, you told him it was for me, and he gave it to you.”

“He did not!” Dorian paused. “For some reason, he thought I was taking it for my own use. Not sure why.”

“Clearly you’ve never done it before.” Lavellan held out his glass for Dorian to fill.

“You cast aspersions on my character; what have I ever done to deserve it?” Dorian couldn’t quite keep a straight face, and Lavellan grinned.

“What was it—  Silent Plains Piquette, Sun Blonde Vint, Aqua Magus?”

“... a bottle of Finale, if you must know.”

Lavellan burst out laughing. “No, of course you’ve never done anything. Certainly not tricked the man out of a bottle of wine more than a hundred years old.”

“The man orders wines that taste like vinegar and mabari piss—  it’s an outrage.” A twitch of Dorian’s lips as he tried not to smile. “The Finale was amazing... Vivienne actually smiled!”

“Well, there’s the true measure of its taste. Where was I? Why did I not get to try one of the last bottles of Finale that exist in the world. I found it!”

“It was on the floor of a tavern, being kicked about by cultists who had no idea what it was worth. And neither did you when you picked it up—  as usual, you picked it up because you thought it was shiny.”

“True enough.” Lavellan stretched, full and content. He winced. “My muscles haven’t quite forgiven me yet.”

“In that case, perhaps a long hot soak is in order. Now that you no longer smell like the Fallow Mire, I might even be convinced to join you.”

“Oh?” Lavellan raised an eyebrow, rising to his feet.

"Certainly. Hot bath, fine wine, attractive man... Why, I've nearly convinced myself!"

“Only nearly?” Lavellan walked back over to the tub- which was empty. Hesitantly, he looked at Dorian, who rolled his eyes.

“I must do everything, mustn’t I?” Dorian gestured and the tub was full of ice. Another gesture at the rune had the ice melting, then steaming. Lavellan shed his clothes, leaving them in a pile on the table.

“Magic is amazing.”

“I think so, yes.” Dorian’s smile was soft, and he was nearly glowing with a quiet happiness. It sometimes overwhelmed Lavellan with how breathtaking he was. Lavellan swore to himself that when this war with Corypheus ended he’d hold onto Dorian, if only to keep making him smile like that.

Lavellan grinned. “You first.”

Dorian didn’t protest. He took off his clothes, folding them carefully next to Lavellan’s haphazard pile and stepped into the hot bath. He let out a pleased sigh, and leaned against the tub walls, stretching out his legs.

Lavellan joined him, sinking into his lap and curling back against Dorian’s chest. He was tired, warm from the bath and the wine. His stomach was full and Dorian’s arms wrapped around his chest, hands caressed him lovingly. Life was good.

Dorian brought his hands back to massage Lavellan’s shoulders, finding knots and carefully smoothing them out. Lavellan’s eyes were drifting shut when Dorian’s hands moved to touch his thighs, teasing the sensitive skin there; Lavellan’s breath caught and his eyes opened. “Not sure I’m up for much tonight.”

“Shh. Let me take care of you.” Dorian kissed his neck and Lavellan exhaled slowly. One of Dorian’s hands drifted up to play with his nipple, tweaking it lightly. He toyed with the skin around it and Lavellan’s cock twitched with interest.

Lavellan turned his head to give Dorian better access to his throat, stretching to try and kiss him. Dorian complied, taking hold of his cock, thumbing the ridge, and sliding his hand with slow, gentle strokes. Lavellan gripped tighter, whining as Dorian kissed his neck with just a hint of teeth and sucked at the bite marks.

“Gonna leave marks,” Lavellan panted.

“High collars.” Dorian murmured, but stopped and shifted to press kisses to narrow, muscled shoulders. His hand gripped Lavellan’s hardening cock more firmly and started moving in longer, faster strokes. His mouth moved away from Lavellan’s shoulders to suck on the sensitive tips of his ears. Lavellan’s breath came in short gasps as he bucked up into Dorian’s hand. “Please, ma vhenan, please…” Lavellan’s eyes were shut as he hummed with pleasure. 

“That’s it, amatus, come for me.”

Lavellan came with a soft sigh, melting against Dorian’s chest. “Mm, Dorian, you’re…”

“Incredible? Mind-blowing?” 

“Perfect was the word I was going for. I feel like a new person.”

“That was the idea.” Dorian smiled. “I’m glad I could help.” 

“Mm,” Lavellan murmured, his eyes closed.

“Time for bed then?”

“You’re going to have to carry me— I’m not sure I have bones anymore.”

“The sacrifices I make.” Dorian shook his head in mock exasperation. He shifted Lavellan further up the tub however, pulling himself out from under him. He wasn’t a large man and being a mage didn’t lend itself to creating muscle the way that being a warrior did, but Lavellan was still tiny in comparison and Dorian lifted him out of the bath with little trouble. Once Lavellan was standing, unsteady on his feet, Dorian dried him off. He guided his exhausted lover to the bed, tucking him under the blankets.

Dorian toweled himself off briskly and then slipped into bed, pulling Lavellan’s body against his own. He wrapped an arm around Lavellan’s waist and Lavellan laced their fingers together.

“Sleep well, amatus.” Dorian was rewarded with an unintelligible mutter. Smiling to himself, he closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep.

 


End file.
